Gioacchino ROSSINI (1792-1866)
Moïse (French version, 1827) [168.14]
Alexey Birkus (bass) – Moïse, Luca dall’Amico (bass) – Pharaon, Randall Bills (tenor) – Aménophis, Elisa Balbo (soprano) – Anaï, Silvia della Benetta (soprano) – Sinaïde, Patrick Kabongo (tenor) – Éliézer, Baurzhan Anderzhanov (bass) – Oziride, Voix mystérieuse, Xiáng Xu (tenor) – Ophide, Albane Carrère (mezzo-soprano) – Marie
Górecki Chamber Choir, Cracow
Virtuosi Brunensis/Fabrizio Maria Carminati
rec. live, 19, 25 and 28 July 2018, Trinkhalle, Bad Wildbad
NAXOS 8.660473-75 [3 CDs: 168:20]
It may not be universally true, but it is probably fair to state that any nineteenth century composer who prepared one of his operas for performance at the Opéra in Paris was automatically sowing the seeds for confusion and anarchy over the relevant score for generations to come. Even Wagner with Tannhäuser was not immune to this problem, although here the difficulties only really surfaced with the resurrection of the original Dresden score after 1945. But the Paris management played havoc with Italian composers. Nowadays it is highly unusual to find any two performances or recordings of Verdi’s Don Carlos containing the same music, and even central works of the repertoire such as Otello can come in a number of varied editions deriving from the first Parisian performances. That is even more assuredly the case with Rossini’s opera (or is it an oratorio?) on the subject of Moses. First written as an opera for performance during Lent in Naples in 1819, it then was proposed to Paris and after initial rejection was accepted in a heavily revised version first performed there in 1827. Even before the first performance, or at least very shortly thereafter, it was subjected to cuts including the final chorus; and if the example of Rossini’s later William Tell was anything to go by, the excisions doubtless accumulated over the years. At the same time the opera was in demand in Italian opera houses, which meant not only translation but further abridgement, bringing the score back towards its Naples original although still maintaining most of the Paris revisions. It was in this bastardised form that Mosè (as it was now titled) was regularly performed in Italy and elsewhere until the 1960s. Attempts to establish a more authentically Rossinian score tended towards the shorter (and therefore cheaper) original Naples version, which indeed has become the preferred edition of the score in recent years. For this recording, deriving from performances at the Rossini Wildbad Festival, a new version of the French score was prepared utiliisng not only the original printed material from 1827 but also restoring the final chorus cut from the published full score but included in the vocal score which had been issued before the first Parisian performances. That chorus, not included in the live Wildbad staging, was recorded specifically for this set of CDs – which makes it the most comprehensive recording ever of Rossini’s massive score.
Like many Parisian grand operas, Moïse is stronger in the big set-pieces than in the relatively infrequent showpieces for the solo singers; Rossini made more provision for the latter when he came to write William Tell for the same stage. Even so there are plenty of duets and other material where the singers can demonstrate their command of Rossinian roulades and other decorations, and as one might expect at a Rossini Festival all the singers in this recording cope admirably with the difficulties that the composer has thrown in their path. On the other hand, given that the performance is given in the French language which Rossini originally designed, it is perhaps surprising that there is not a single French singer in the cast, even in minor roles. Instead the thorough-goingly international roster of singers generally seem (not so surprisingly) to have in common a career in German opera houses.
Alexey Birkus in the title role makes an early impact when he interrupts the opening chorus, even when he is set somewhat backwardedly in the audio picture; later he gives his declamations more heroic force. As his antagonist, Luca dall’Amico is rather softer-grained and is consequently at even more of a disadvantage against the orchestra, although he manoeuvres his way admirably through his coloratura decorations. The young lovers Aménophis and Anaï are given spirited performances by Randall Bills and Elisa Balbo, which make up in engagement for any roughness of tone. Balbo makes an indelible impression in her big scene at the beginning of the final Act, floating some delicate high passages and astounding in her display of agility. Bills is clearly a believer in the school of tenor singing which Duprez introduced to Paris, with high notes delivered from the chest in a manner which Rossini abhorred; but then the composer invites such an approach with his often heavy scoring, which the orchestra here delivers with due impact, and Bills certainly has the flexibility required for his coloratura (magnificent in his Act Two duet with his father [CD2, track 8]. Patrick Kabongo similarly espouses the cause of audibility at some expense of sophistication, but Silvia dalla Benetta is more sympathetic as the understanding mother and gives a dazzling display of bravura at the end of Act Two. Baurzhan Anderzhanov who has the unenviable task of impersonating the “voix mystérieuse” who gives Moses the tablets of law sounds less than Godlike on his upper notes, and no attempt is made to provide his voice with any supernatural attributes (he sounds strained, too, in his later appearance as a priest on CD 3, track 2).
The full-blooded chorus are perhaps stronger on enthusiasm than subtlety, and individual voices sometimes obtrude from the texture especially when the men are singing; the orchestral playing has plenty of body even when one might perhaps have welcomed a larger complement of violins. Fabrizio Maria Carminati whips up a positive storm for such passages as the earthquake and volcanic eruption at the end of Act One even when Rossini’s agitated writing threatens to become formulaic (Spontini, and of course Berlioz, managed this sort of thing so much better). Some of the brass playing sounds a bit queasy (for example in CD2, track 3] but the blame for that may perhaps also be placed at Rossini’s door, particularly in the sentimental trombone obligato which introduces the following ensemble. But the brass redeem themselves in the reinstated final chorus of rejoicing, which serves to bring the work to a more satisfactory conclusion than the rowdy drowning of Pharaoh and his army.
Those allergic to applause on recordings may care to note that the audience claps even before the orchestra begins the overture. They also register their presence at the end of several numbers, and a couple of very prominent coughs make an unwelcome contribution – which could surely have been ‘patched’ from alternative recorded takes. The booklet contains useful notes and a basic synopsis in English and German; a French libretto is available at the Naxos website. Rossinian completists will have to have this set for the new edition and additional material; those curious about the composer’s pre-Tell forays in the world of Parisian grand opera will find much to interest them; and the performance is worthy of the music. Those who were content with earlier adulterated texts, or who positively prefer the less overblown Naples version, will have their own favourites among earlier recordings. I welcomed the chance to hear the work in Rossini’s final version, especially when delivered with as much conviction as here.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
